J5ancp  il.  jf osfer 


GIFT  OF 
Clcisa  of     1907 


A? 


SONNETS  AND  LYRICS 


SON  NETS 
AND    LYRICS 

BY 

NANCY  K.  FOSTER 


M  CM  XVII 

PAUL  ELDER  AND  COMPANY 
SAN  FRANCISCO 


COPYRIGHT,  1917 

By  PAUL  ELDER  AND  COMPANY 

SAN  FRANCISCO 


*    ;,'.•*•*•; 


TO 
MY  BROTHER  ERNEST 


369483 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

MY  TRAIL   .                 3 

THEMOJAVE       .        .        . 4 

REMEMBRANCE 5 

LA  FRANCE  ROSES 6 

THOUGHTS  IN  THE  CAMPAGNA 7 

A  CALIFORNIA  GARDEN 8 

A  FOOT-HILL  SONG 9 

A  STORM  IN  THE  SIERRA  MADRE 10 

CANOPUS ii 

SPRING  IN  THE  HILLS        .        ^.^ 12 

MATILIJA  POPPIES 13 

CHEROKEE  ROSES      .                 14 

A  SEA  SONG         .                 15 

BY  THE  PACIFIC— I.  TWILIGHT,  II.  NOCTURNE      .        .  16 

SEA  MIST     .       Y 18 

A  STORMY  NIGHT  BY  THE  PACIFIC          ....  19 

THE  TRUANT  POET 20 

CHAUCER    .        .'       ..        .        .  * ai 

TO  TENNYSON    .        « 22 

AFTER  HEARING  LISZT'S  "LIEBESTRAUM"     ...  23 

YSAYE 24 

CONFESSION        , 25 

VII 


CONTENTS,  Continued 

THE  COWARD .  26 

WASTE .        .         .27 

I  HAD  A  DREAM          .        .         .         ....        .28 

WHO  WOULD  HAVE  THOUGHT?         .  '      .N      .        .         .  29 

ON  THE  CLIFFS 30 

REMORSE 31 

COMPASS-POINTS 32 

RELEASE 33 

BLOSSOM  SONGS 34 

INSTEAD  OF  ME 36 

AN  OCTOBER  EVENING 37 

TWILIGHT  ON  LAKE  WABAN 38 

HOMESICK 39 

THE  HILLSIDE    .  4o 


VIII 


SONNETS  AND  LYRICS 


MY  TRAIL 


Y 


'OUR  trail  may  carry  you  far  away, 
To  the  line  of  the  snowy  peak; 
You  may  follow  the  wake  of  the  fir-tree's 


song, 
But  farther,  still  farther  I  seek. 

You  may  wander  the  forests  primeval, 

Lured  by  the  eagle's  call, 
Or  wait  for  the  desert's  wooing — 

My  trail  outreaches  them  all ! 

I  doubt  if  you  find  it  by  searching 

Howsoever  far  you  climb: 
The  inn  at  the  end  is  a  constant  heart, 

The  trail  is  a  man's  lifetime. 


THE  MOJAVE 

G IE  AT  Desert,  mighty  brother  to  the  Sea! 
Thy  burning  sands  in  silver  waves 

unrolled, 

Thy  distances  ablaze  with  red  and  gold. 
Huge  solitude!  Lone  Western  mystery! 
For  comrade  the  wide  sky  bends  lovingly, 
By  day  encircling  thee  with  azure  fold — 
A  flawless  blue — or  flaming  tints  more  bold; 
By  night  lending  her  stars  for  company. 
Unmeasured,  vast,  sublime,  thou  surely  art! 
What  healing  in  thy  pure  mesmeric  air! 
Yet,  desolate  as  some  large  human  heart, 
That,  still  unclaimed,  unsought,  is  waste  and  bare; 
Impervious  to  joy  or  griefs  deep  smart, 
Waiting  the  touch  of  Love,  thou  liest  there! 


REMEMBRANCE 

AR.OSS  the  hills  to  the  windy  spaces, 
Up  where  the  canon  turns  from  the  sea, 
There  in  the  lush  green,  glowing  places, 
Where  scarlet  and  gold  hold  revelry, 

Once  came  a  day  when  the  lark's  song  called  to 
me, 

Over  the  mesa  of  mist  and  dew: 
The  stifled  sob  broke  into  weeping, 

The  dead  heart  woke  to  the  thought  of  you. 


LA  FRANCE  ROSES 

KSES  of  France,  how  beautiful  you  are! 
Warm  is  your  color  as  the  glowing  cheek 
Of  my  beloved.  Vainly  would  I  seek 
'Mongst  India's  webs  your  texture  to  compare. 
Opulent  hearts,  large,  generous,  and  rare, 
Radiant  La  France!  Not  fragile,  slender, 

sleek, 

As  Gold  of  Ophir  or  Safrano  meek — 
Perchance  of  long  ago  Love's  chosen  flower! 
Gazing  on  you,  old  days  of  war  and  might, 
Of  prowess,  chivalry,  in  sunny  France, 
Of  courts  of  Love,  gay  tournament  and  dance 
Return  once  more.  Chansons  and  vi relay 
To  lady  sung  by  troubadour  or  knight 
Are  in  your  honeyed  scent  breathed  forth  alway ! 


THOUGHTS  IN  THE  CAMPAGNA 

ADNG  the  Appian  Road  we  went  to-day, 
Strewn  with  the  precious  fragments  of  the 

past — 
Fragments  of  Rome!  that  time  and  storm 

outlast. 

Mile  after  mile,  the  champaign  stretched  away, 
'Broidered  with  daisies  springing  'midst  decay; 
The  Alban  hills  faint,  wistful  shadows  cast; 
Spectres  of  glory  vanquished,  tragic,  vast, 
Loomed  from  old  archways  and  tall  towers  gray. 

Dreaming  I  fall,  and  other  mountains  see, 
Nobler  than  any  Italy  may  show, 
Fold  upon  fold  upcrowd  in  majesty, 
Pale  amber  lights,  deep  purples  all  aglow! 
And  in  my  ears  an  ageless  melody — 
The  broad  Pacific  eloquently  slow. 


A  CALIFORNIA  GARDEN 

\\T  THAT  so  rare  as  this  garden  small? 
Y/y   White  oleanders,  magnolias  fair, 

Swinging  pale  censers  upon  the  air, 
All  in  the  glory  of  bloom! 
Humming-birds  wooing  hibiscus-flower, 
Myriad  blossoms  in  tangled  bower, 
Where  sunbeams  quiver  and  swoon ! 

Nothing  so  rare  as  this  garden  small. 
Date  palm  and  cactus,  acacia  old, 
Curling  its  fingers,  fold  upon  fold, 

All  of  the  long  afternoon. 
Breeze  calling  breeze  in  the  rosewood  trees, 
Whose  filmy,  delicate,  trembling  leaves 

Make  slender  bars  for  the  moon! 


A  FOOT-HILL  SONG 

TTTTHEN  from  mountain  base  rises  in  soft 
\A/      waves  of  light, 

The  mist-silvered  sage  with  its  long 

fingers  white, 

And  the  honey-bee  revels  in  seas  of  new  sweet, 
To  fall  thinking  of  you,  it  is  meet,  it  is  meet! 

When  the  quail  leaves  his  ambush  with  flutter 

and  stir, 
And  the  humming-bird  circles  and  darts  with 

low  whirr, 
When  the  butterfly  pauses  to  rest  her  long 

mile, 
To  fall  thinking  of  you  is  worth  while,  is  worth 

while! 

When  the  mimulus  bell  grows  in  clusters  apace, 
And  the  yucca's  tall  taper  burns  white  in  one's 

face, 
When  the  scents  from  the  foot-hills  blow  balsam 

and  rest, 
To  fall  thinking  of  you  is  the  best,  is  the  best ! 


A  STORM  IN  THE  SIERRA  MADRE 

SARTLED,  surprised,  I  gaze  in  wonderment. 
The  gracious  heavens  that  all  the  constant 

year 

Pour  benison  serene,  are  charged  with  fear: 
I  wait  and  watch — the  black  clouds  spread  a 

tent, 
Smothering,  confined.  With  outlines  blurred 

and  rent, 
Whipped  by  the  wind,  the  mountains 

disappear — 

Lost  in  the  mist: — tempestuous  as  Lear 
Yon  stately  peak! — the  range  magnificent! 
It  clears:  again  the  bright  placidity, 
Blue  quietness,  the  sky's  habitual  blue; 
"Old  Baldy  "  lets  his  cloud-wrought  visor  fall; 
While,  shot  by  distant  sunbeams  through  and 

through, 

The  prism-heights,  emerald,  chalcedony, 
An  instant  flame — a  New  Jerusalem  wall! 


10 


CANOPUS* 

ir\LUE  Wonder-star!  so  near  the  horizon's  rim; 
:"j  Chaste  Spirit  of  these  Southern  winter  skies ! 

Largess  of  light  for  timid  human  eyes 
Thy  jewelled  variance!  Truly  sight  grows  dim, 
As  swift  as  thought  thy  flashing  colors  skim 
The  spectrum  o'er — when  lo !  thy  spark  wanes, 

dies, 

Then,  sudden,  breaks  in  magical  surprise, 
Outrivaling  thy  peer,  the  Dog-star  grim. 
Long  ages  past  'tis  said  the  Persian's  knee, 
On  lonely  plain  and  rugged  mountain-wall, 
In  breathless  adoration  bowed  to  thee: 
To-day  we  worship  gold,  land,  houses — all — 
Tinsel  and  gaud  before  thy  radiancy! 
Fool's-fire  to  lure  and  dazzle  till  we  fall ! 


*The  brightest  star  but  one  in  the  heavens.  It  is  not  visible  in  the 
northern  latitudes,  but  conspicuous  in  California  and  in  Florida  in  the 
winter. 

II 


SPRING  IN  THE  HILLS 

LAND  and  meadow,  orchard-slope  and 
dale, 

Are  filled  with  moving  shapes  of  living 
green; 

They  flee  before  my  eyes  from  morn  till  eve, 
In  floating,  shimmering  robes  of  mystic  sheen. 

I  must  forget  it  is  the  earth  I  tread, 
When  looking  through  this  glade  of  willow 
screen; 

For,  yonder,  Dian  bends  her  graceful  head; 
Against  the  oak,  I  see  Endymion  lean ! 

And  all  night  long  in  rout  of  minstrelsy, 

Playing  their  pipes  while  mountain  brooklets 

sing, 

Led  by  young  Bacchus,  clad  in  leafy  coat, 
Come  the  wild  Maenads,  shouting,  "It  is 
Spring!" 


12 


MATILIJA  POPPIES 


P 


ETALS  pellucid  and  fragile, 

Disks  spun  with  threads  of  the  sun, 
Eerie  and  far-straying  sprites, 

Out  of  the  wild  canon  come! 


Jewels  for  Dian,  the  stately, 
As  to  the  chase  she  will  hie; 

No  earth-born  maiden  dare  wear  ye, 
Lest,  fading,  straightway  ye  die! 


CHEROKEE  ROSES 

i,  starry  roses,  pure  and  still  and  white, 
Resurrection  roses!  for  the  Easter  night. 

Roses,  starry  roses,  holy,  reverent  flowers, 
Fairest  for  an  offering  to  this  Christ  of  ours. 

Roses,  starry  roses,  tell  the  Man  of  Thorns, 
That  He  has  our  homage,  not  our  slights  and 
scorns. 

Roses,  starry  roses,  whisper  God  above, 
That  we  most  adore  Him  for  His  Gift  of  Love. 


A  SEA  SONG 

OUT  of  the  storm  and  the  winds  wild  and 
cold, 
Out  of  the  mist  and  the  moon's  path  of 

gold, 

Out  of  the  depth  of  the  wave's  emerald  fold, 
My  soul  goeth  forth  to  thee! 

Caught  in  the  arms  of  the  feathery  spray, 

Wrapt  in  a  robe  of  the  sun's  lilac  ray, 

In  the  song  the  sea  sings  on  the  gray  beach 

to-day, 
Thy  soul  returneth  to  me! 


BY  THE  PACIFIC 

I.— TWILIGHT 

J-^OG-WINGS  enfold, 
M   But  not  before  strange  beauties  fill  the 

space 

Of  quiet  water  in  the  harbor-nest, 
Gold  and  vermilion,  with  a  gift  of  rest, 
Making  a  holy-ground — this  little  place! 

Fog- wings  enfold, 

But  not  before  the  mighty  deep  has  laid, 

As  guerdon  on  the  patient  shore's  calm  breast, 

Kisses  of  peace — soft  from  the  wave's  white 

crest, 
As  though  the  yearning,  restless  waters  prayed. 

Fog- wings  enfold, 

But  not  before  the  mountains  meet  the  sea, 

Mist  of  the  peak  with  mist  of  headland — one — 

Wrapt,  withdrawn,  in  pearly  unison, 

Ere  night  and  darkness  win  the  mastery. 


16 


n.— NOCTURNE 

SELENCE!  Then  the  low  music  comes, 
The  throbbing  music  of  the  slow  night- 
tide 

Up  through  the  fog  and  mist. 
List!  Ah, list! 
Hear  the  tall  breakers  ride 
Landward  in  stately  pride; 
While  leagues  beyond  sleeps  the  dark  sea, 
Tranquilly!  tranquilly! 
Where  sea  and  sky  are  one, 
Sleeps  the  dark  sea! 


SEA  MIST 

O  knows  if  the  Sea  love  the  Mountain 


TTT  TH 

yy 


All  day  long  doth  he  take  his  way, 
Shimmering,  shining,  boastful,  free, 
Ever  proud  is  the  stately  sea! 
For  the  distant  mountain,  what  cares  he? 
But  when  in  the  midnight,  the  long  moonbeams 

fall 

In  whitened  splendor  across  the  wall 
Of  the  rugged  mountain,  sad  and  tall, 
Then  doth  the  Sea  send  a  pearly  zone 
To  engirdle  the  waist  of  the  mountain  lone  — 
A  lover's  pledge  from  the  stately  sea 
To  the  distant  mountain,  fair  is  she! 


18 


A  STORMY  NIGHT  BY  THE  PACIFIC 

J  •  JO-NIGHT  there  comes  a  calling  of  the  sea; 
I       Importunate  and  wild  the  breakers  moan, 

Weaving  the  tireless  shuttle  of  the  foam, 
Tossing  the  dulse  and  kelp  unceasingly. 
Dark,  dark,  unsolvable  the  mystery 
Of  beach,  of  starless  sky  and  headland  lone; 
Tumultuous,  throbbing  Night !  peace  there  is 

none, 

Till  morning  quickeneth  the  sullen  lea, 
Ushering  in  the  blue  October  day, 
Along  the  golden  marshes  warm  and  still, 
Across  the  harbor,  where  the  schooners  lay  , 
Asleep  within  the  shadow  of  the  hill, 
That  overlooks  the  tranquil,  dreaming  bay, 
Where,  hour  by  hour,  the  sea-birds  play  at  will. 


THE  TRUANT  POET 

\\T  TEARY  in  heart  and  brain,  a  Poet  cried, 
Y/y      "  What  joy  or  rest  doth  all  my  labor 

bring, 
To  the  great  world  that  strives  and  toils 

outside? 

When  dare  they  stay  to  hear  a  Poet  sing? " 
He  fell  asleep,  and  in  great  agony, 
Dreaming,  he  stood  upon  an  arid  plain, 
Where  pale  and  weary  faces  he  could  see, 
And  hear  sad  voices  calling  him  in  vain. 
From  out  the  midst  there  spake  a  woman  fair, 
"O  Poet  dear,  return  unto  the  skies, 
Or  we  shall  die  for  lack  of  that  sweet  air, 
Which  keeps  alive  the  soul  that  pants  and 

dies!" 

Back  to  Parnassus'  height  the  Poet  came, 
Begging  the  gods  their  truant  child  to  claim! 


20 


CHAUCER 

FOM  Browning's  greatness  in  his  "Ring  and 
Book," 

Or  from  the  pages  where  sad  Arnold  cries 
Unto  his  lonely  soul  that  pants  and  dies 
So  near  the  Eternal  Fount,  I  turn  and  look 
To  thee,  hale  Singer,  whom  I  had  forsook 
For  these.  Blithe  Chaucer!  Nought  thy  song 

denies 

Of  that  which  strengthens,  gladdens,  satisfies! 
Kneeling,  I  quaff  as  at  a  mountain-brook, 
One  sparkling  draught,  that  makes  the  slow 

heart  beat 

With  sympathetic  love  to  fellow  men; 
The  hand,  once  loth,  now  quickly  turns  to  greet; 
A  charm  hold  grass  and  sky  beyond  my  ken, 
The  whole  world  has  grown  young  and  fresh 

and  sweet, 
And  every  daisy-disk  gleams  forth  a  gem. 


21 


TO  TENNYSON 

TO-DAY,  they  lay  thee  down  to  rest, 
Thou  valiant  bard  of  lyric  song, 
Who  knew'st  so  well  the  worth  of  speech, 
Skilled  master  in  our  Saxon  tongue! 

To  elevate  the  human  heart, 
Till  passion  grew  a  holy  thing, 
Obedient  unto  highest  Law, 
Was  thy  peculiar  ministering. 

How  strong,  yet  tender  are  thy  men ! 
How  fair  is  woman  in  thine  eyes! 
Our  little  children  fall  asleep, 
Hushed  by  thy  winsome  lullabies. 

And  to  the  doubting,  restless  soul, 
Unraveling  life's  deep  mystery, 
A  steady  light  forever  gleams 
From  out  thy  noble  Elegy. 

October  12, 1892 


22 


AFTER  HEARING  LISZT  S 
"LIEBESTRAUM" 

SOFT  my  heart  had  tried  love's  song  to  sing, 
So  oft  to  utter  through  some  charmed  word 

Your  soul's  response — the  passion  all 

unheard 
Yet  plainer  far  than  speech,  your  eyes  would 

fling 

To  quickly  catch  my  thought  and  quickly  bring, 
My  answering  heart  to  yours.  Ever  deterred! 
Mute,  lame,  withheld,  like  some  wild,  fettered 

bird, 

Impotent  was  the  senses'  offering! 
Never  until  I  heard  this  Master's  tone; 
The  faultless,  magic  note,  the  flawless  bars, 
Where  matchless  melody  alone  doth  moan, 
With  tenderness  that  reaches  to  the  stars, 
And  earthly  love  doth  heavenly  love  become, 
Found  I  expression  meet — here,  nothing  mars! 


YSAYE 

You  ask  me  then,  "What  made  the  artist 
great? 
How  with  that  slender  bow  the  hearts  of 

men 
He  moved  and  thrilled  and  swayed  beyond  their 

ken? 

Which  of  the  gods  endowed  him  ?  By  what  fate 
Those  lifeless  strings  burst  forth  articulate — 
Now  with  the  moan  of  sea  on  shore  again, 
Or  sob  of  child,  or  holy  saints'  amen, 
Or,  yet,  love's  yearning,  deep,  impassionate?" 
Talent  one  may  define,  her  essence  tell — 
This  is  within  the  bound  and  sceptre's  right 
Of  that  vast  Land  of  Words — the  poet's  realm. 
If  from  the  womb  of  thought  great  genius  come, 
Circled  by  holy  fire  and  aureole  light, 
Affrighted,  Speech  shrinks  backward,  helpless, 
dumb! 


CONFESSION 

ER  years  I  've  fought  it,  love !  Here,  now, 
to-night, 

Within  the  quiet  of  the  empty  room, 
Alone,  except  for  company — the  moon, 
Who  knows  my  secret  these  long  silent  years, 
Here,  christened  by  swift-coursing,  burning 

tears, 

I'll  open  bare  this  heart  just  made  to  beat 
For  thee!  That  woman 's,  yonder,  warms  at 

Song, 

Or,  at  Humanity's  eternal  wrong; 
But  I,  possessing  powers,  rich,  wide,  complete, 
Fling  all  away  to  lie  before  thy  feet! 
How  strange  it  is  that  God  would  dare  allow 
The  years  to  pass  with  neither  sign  nor  vow, 
From  me  to  thee,  from  thee  to  me,  apart? 
Yet  still  permit  the  falling  of  hot  tears; 
Until  the  heart  disclosed  to  thee  to-night, 
Is  burnt  and  parched  and  scathed  from  the 

fight, 

So  marred,  so  broken,  waiting  the  slow  years 
'Tis  scarcely  worth  the  proffering  e'er  I  go — 
In  other  worlds,  perchance,  we  both  shall  know. 


THE  COWARD 

BECAUSE  of  one  poor  little  wound,  my  Heart, 
Thou  comest  back  to  me, 
Back  to  emptiness  and  strife, 
Who  hast  shared  his  royal  life? 

The  pain,  I  know,  is  sore,  the  thrust  was  deep, 
But,  Heart,  proud  Heart,  woulds't  have  him 

know  we  weep  ? 

Forth  to  thy  queenly  state!  Shame  'twould  be, 
To  have  a  woman's  love  like  craven  flee, 
Because  of  one  poor  little  wound,  my  Heart. 


WASTE 


N 


'O  WITHERED  flower  that  all  the  day 

Its  gay  perfume  had  flung, 
Now  first  to  this,  and  then  to  that, 
Wild,  foolish  bird  which  sung. 


No  ancient  bell  that  once  had  sent 

Fair  melodies  afloat; 
But  now  is  sadly  jangled, 

And  plays  a  doleful  note — 

Not  such  as  these — was  the  fresh  love 

That  fell  across  his  way; 
It  was  a  first  surrender, 

Rebuffed  by  common  clay. 


I  HAD  A  DREAM 

I  HAD  a  dream,  my  dear, 
Somewhere,  we  sat  alone. 
The  place?  It  matters  not. 
The  time  ?  I  Ve  quite  forgot. 
The  whole  is  vague  and  gone — 
One  thing  remains,  how  clear! 
My  timid  hand  found  way, 
Into  your  palm  to  stray. 


28 


WHO  WOULD  HAVE  THOUGHT? 

T TT  THO  would  have  thought  that  skies  could 
\A/    warmer  be 

Than  those  last  year  above  the  pepper 

tree? 

And  yet  to-day  there  gleams  a  deeper  blue, 
As  though  the  very  saints  were  peering  through. 
Who  would  have  thought  ? 

Who  would  have  thought  the  fields  could  greener 

grow, 

That  this  year's  nest  a  sweeter  song  could  know? 
And  yet  to-day  no  blade  but  is  more  fair, 
The  lark's  note  breaks  pure  crystal  on  the  air, 
Who  would  have  thought? 

Who  would  have  thought  your  love  could  surer 

tell 
Its  tenderness  and  strength,  my  heart  knows 

well, 

And  yet  to-day,  there  burns  a  brighter  flame, 
The  old  love  boasts  a  newer,  richer  name, 
Who  would  have  thought? 


ON  THE  CLIFFS 


m 


:AT  have  we  done  with  you,  beautiful 
5Tears? 


Given  you  laughter  and  sorrow  and  tears; 
Baffled  and  thwarted  you;  scoffed  and  scorned 
Your  Mistress,  sweet  Wonder,  who  tenderly 

warned, 

And  offered  her  gracious,  wise-guiding  hand, 
To  lead  us  through  life's  bewildering  land — 
Back — to  this  morn  of  April  and  Spring, 
To  these  cliffs  where  the  sea  and  pine  boughs 

sing; 

Where  the  pain  in  the  hidden  room  of  the  heart, 
Is  brightened,  illumined,  freed  of  its  smart. 


REMORSE 

OUT  of  Life's  bleak,  gray  hours  one  dream  I 
bear; 

One  vivid  picture  haunts  the  memory: 
A  broad,  white  hilltop  with  its  single  tree, 
The  sole  dark  object  'gainst  a  sky  made  fair 
With  evening  light  and  winter's  wine-red  sun — 
Suddenly  illumining  the  place, 
Uprose  the  vision  of  a  woman's  face; 
She  and  the  chastened  loveliness  were  one: 
Like  the  still  beauty  was  her  calm  control; 
The  deepening  glow  like  that  within  her  eyes; 
And  as  the  single  tree  marring  the  whole, 
With  black 'ning  branches  raised  against  the  sky, 
I  came  and  broke  her  life's  sweet  purity; 
I  stayed  and  let  her  love  me  with  her  soul. 


COMPASS-POINTS 


ER  the  same  can  it  be, 
This  world  I  have  known  so  long; 
My  compass-points  are  changed, 
And  the  undertone  of  my  song. 


Last  year,  the  sea  had  an  end, 
The  mountains  touched  the  stars, 

The  echo  gave  an  answer, 

My  wildest  dreams  knew  bars: 

Neither  northward  nor  southward, 
Nor  thitherward  east  or  west, 

Dare  I  hinder  my  soul  on  her  journey, 
Or  stay  her  limitless  quest. 

Away,  beyond  all  borders, 

Across  the  eternal  space, 
We  follow  new,  timeless  music, 

And  the  smile  of  Her  beckoning  Face. 


RELEASE 

\\T  THO'LL  say  me  nay  ? 
\A/    Through  weary  months  and  years, 

Panoplied  with  fears, 
I  kept  the  way. 

Love  is  let  loose! 
Gone  be  the  truce 
Held  with  my  pride 
And  the  world's  side! 

Thoughts,  dreams — the  best  of  me — 
Like  uncaged  birds  will  flee 
Unto  thy  breast. 
Healing  with  song 
All  the  old  wrong; 
Fluttering,  they  cling  to  thee, 
Seeking  their  nest, 
Forever  at  rest. 


#tt 

• 

33 


BLOSSOM  SONGS 

I 

THE  bright-haired  Spring  comes  dancing 
Across  the  wintry  world, 
A  menace  in  her  glancing, 
Where  yonder  clouds  lie  furled. 

Her  glad  footprints  are  gleaming 

Along  the  hilltops  brown, 
The  slow  brooks  know  she's  coming, 

How  swift  they're  trickling  down ! 

The  orchard 's  snowy  tangles, 

Where  robins  congregate 
Are  wrapt  in  misty  rose-light, 

And  on  her  presence  wait. 

H 

Who  cares  if  it  rain  in  the  spring,  in  the  spring, 
When  robins  and  linnets  are  out  on  the  wing, 
In  the  spring,  on  the  wing? 

Who  heeds  the  wind's  wail,  when  'tis  May, 

when  'tis  May, 
The  earth  one  sweet  garden  for  wandering  all 

day, 
When  'tis  May  all  the  day? 


34 


•^i  m 

Down  in  the  garden  path  this  dewy  night, 
From  off  the  hills  and  meadows  young  with 

grass, 

New  scents  blow  in,  evasive,  fragile,  sweet, 
As  Spring  herself  to-night  this  way  did  pass; 
And,  all  unthinking,  face  to  face,  we  meet, 
Down  in  the  garden  path  this  dewy  night. 


35 


INSTEAD  OF  ME 

WHEN  June  has  put  her  perfect  kiss 
Upon  the  hillside's  dewy  cheek, 
And  every  bird  note's  full  of  bliss, 
As  far  and  wide,  the  woods  you  seek — 
'Tis  solace  sweet,  since  I  can't  be, 
To  know  you're  there  instead  of  me! 

When  like  great  spirits  bow'd  in  prayer 
Warm  clouds  poise  in  the  blue  beyond, 
And  insects  singing  everywhere, 
Make  the  whole  world  full  of  sound — 
'Tis  solace  sweet,  since  I  can't  be, 
To  know  you're  there  instead  of  me! 


AN  OCTOBER  EVENING 

^^ABLED  roof  and  houses  tall, 

I    "¥  Grapevine  trellis,  crumbling  wall, 

Golden-tinted  are  they  all, 
This  October  evening! 

And  old  memories,  great  and  small, 
That  so  often  pain  recall, 
Golden-tinted  are  they  all, 
This  October  evening! 


37 


TWILIGHT  ON  LAKE  WABAN 

TTT  THEN  soft  the  violet  mists  o'er  Waban 
yy       steal, 

'Tis  then  I  love  to  glide  across  her  breast 
And  watch  the  twilight  quiver  in  the  west, 
Or,  drift  among  her  shadows  till  I  feel 
Their  velvet  fingers  clasp  my  dripping  keel, 
Luring  me  into  chambers  of  deep  rest. 

Wellesley  College,  1890. 


HOMESICK  ?A!&J», .;:  :;:;'•.  il; 

I  WOULD  fare  forth,  go  once  more  to  the  East, 
To  the  dear  land  that  holds  my  girlhood 

dreams; 
Would  seek  the  stately,  slow  meandering 

streams 

Where  green  hills  rise  with  hemlocks  fledg'd; 
would  feast 

Upon  the  scent  of  lilac  blooms;  shed  tears 
Within  some  well-loved  sanctuary  of  trees, 
And  drink  the  wine  of  Memory  to  the  lees — 

Memory  grown  rich  by  interim  of  years. 


39 


THE  HILLSIDE 

T1AIR  Hillside,  to  thy  mute,  appealing  face, 
'    I  bring  this  utterance  as  a  last  farewell. 

Grief  holds  me  dumb,  yet  some  poor  word 

must  tell 

Thee  of  my  love.  Ah!  once  again,  I  trace 
In  these  long  grasses  the  same  old,  sweet  grace 
That  welcomed  me  in  autumns  gone.  How  well 
Do  I  remember  what  a  subtle  spell 
Bound  me  for  days  in  wonder  at  thy  base, 
Where  the  bright  quince-hedge  burned  away 

the  spring 

In  glory  and  refulgent  flame!  White  rime 
And  all  the  jewels  that  the  frost  could  fling 
Thou  held'st  for  me;  and  underneath  thy  Pine 
High  thoughts  have  come  like  angels  ministering; 
Friendships  had  birth  that  scorn  the  touch  of 

time! 


40 


HERE,  THEN,  END  THE  SONNETS  AND  LYRICS  FROM 
THE  PEN  OF  NANCY  K.  FOSTER,  WHICH  HAVE  BEEN 
PRINTED  ON  TUSCANY  HANDMADE  PAPER  AND 
MADE  INTO  A  BOOK  BY  PAUL  ELDER  AND  COMPANY 
AT  THEIR  TOMOYE  PRESS,  IN  THE  CITY  OF  SAN  FRAN 
CISCO,  UNDER  THE  PERSONAL  SUPERVISION  OF 
RICARDO  J.  OROZCO  IN  THE  SPRING  OF  M  CM  XVII 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


